Aisling's Mission
by Steeven Lee
Summary: After sacrificing herself to help Brendan face Crom, Aisling finds herself in the presence of God, who sends her back to Earth to complete a task which He gives to her. As she grows more and more curious, she finds herself longing to see the Book. What follows is a heartwarming one-shot involving friendship, kindness, and The Book of Kells. Contains some violence.


_Author's Note:_

_This story contains Christian themes, such as Aisling conversing with God and her discovery of the Bible. __If that isn't your cup of tea, I would like to kindly ask that you not flame me with hateful comments. __After all, I am a Christian. Christian is as Christian does, so to speak._

_On a secondary note, this story does switch viewpoints throughout. Most of the time, it's from Aisling's point of view. __The only times it is not is during the fourth section, which is from Brendan's point of view, and the last section, which is in third-person._

* * *

"Turn the darkness into... _light_."

That hurts.

It hurts to speak. My throat is being ripped apart. The wind is cutting my skin. The collapsing statue is breaking my bones, and I am scared.

I can feel it all; and right in front of me, I can see my friend – Brendan – as clearly as a reflection in a puddle. Horror is in his eyes and his mouth is agape with shock. Wordlessly, he speaks to me and tells me that I am dying.

Craum is killing me. I feel his evil presence. I feel that _demon's _poison infecting me and weakening my soul. I've been feeling it ever since I came into this place, and now it has grown into a venomous web. Now, like a fly, I'm entangled. Craum is _ending_ _my_ _life_.

But not for long; Broken, my arms give up and I feel a massive weight smash me into the ground.

* * *

_And now..._

_..._

_Emptiness._

_..._

_Everything is dark..._

_..._

_I can see nothing, I can hear nothing, and I can feel nothing._

_..._

_It is all around me. A vast chasm has swallowed me up. Death has taken me, and the darkest nights spent in the deepest caverns cannot compare to this inky blackness. The only thing is my soul. My thought is all that I know of..._

_..._

_I feel like I'm in a nightmare without monsters – My soul is in a sleep without end. Is this what death is? Is it this cavernous tomb? Am I destined to stay here forever, everywhere and nowhere at once? Must I surrender myself to this fate?_

_Suddenly, a bright light fiercely explodes, and the blackness disappears! I feel warm air rip through my soul like the wind of a storm! The dry stench of death is thrown away by this new life, and a chill shoots down my spine!_

_There is a colossal Presence is right in front of me, eclipsing all._

_I let out a cry of terror and fall to my knees, closing my eyes and burying my head in my arms. I want to speak, but I can't. Fear embraces me. My heart is pounding hard enough to explode._

_I'm so scared._

_Then the Presence has a Voice, and the Voice speaks._

_My name. The Voice said my name. He knows my name! I try to talk, but I can't. My feeble mind has hastily thrown up a wall of defense, blocking my own, tiny voice. Fighting and fighting, I try time and time again to smash through the wall and talk, but my efforts are fruitless. I feel like a child in the domain of a mighty lion._

_..._

_Then the Voice tells me to speak._

_And with that, the wall is shattered. My thoughts explode out of my mouth like water out a broken dam. "I'm scared! I'm scared! I'm scared! You're too much! You're too much! Please don't destroy me!" I pause for a moment, gathering my senses. "Wh-Wh-Wh-Who?! Who are you?!"_

_Then He utters two words._

_I can't describe Him. I can't even recall the exact words He speaks to me..._

_But those two words._

_Those two words are all that need be recalled._

"**I Am."**

_That name._

_That name swallows eternity._

_He is._

_i know Who This Is._

_Brendan told me about Him._

_The holy places are His._

_In His name, my kind is forbidden from entering sacred ground._

_Throughout the ages, on the ends of rumors, tales of Him have made my kind tremble in dreams._

_Because He Is._

_My soul quakes in what can only be the epitome of absolute dread. Nothing, not even the blackness of craum himself, could compare to this life-giving terror i now experience. "P-P-Please... do not... do not k-kill me... P-P-Please..." i manage to whisper out._

_i feel naked and bare and helpless. Though already dead, i fear a new death. i fear a second death, worse than the first. Worse than anything i can imagine. My soul is so close to destruction that i can feel it as if it were the heat of a fire._

_In a monumental, echoing whisper, He speaks._

_He calls me child of the forest, and says that my time hasn't yet come. He tells me that i will return to Ireland, no longer fearing but now protecting. i... i am to protect the Book. As a soldier defends his king, i am to protect His Word._

_i cannot think. i cannot think. Too much. Too much! Return to Ireland? But aren't i dead? And why me? What am i to carry out a task fit for an angel? And..._

_And how? How can a fairey defend His Word? i'd be as a spider defending a boot, or a boat defending a storm! It's as if the mouse would have to defend The Eagle!_

_Oh, have mercy on me, but how can I do this? i'm... i'm not worthy!_

_But He has spoken, and i have no choice but to obey. It's not that he forces me to, but somehow i feel like i now must. Something deep down inside of me actually seeks this. i don't know what, but some part of me has changed now._

_Before i can think anymore, my encounter ends._

_A rush of wind, more powerful than before, overtakes me. A roar like thunder explodes around me and i'm sent tumbling everywhere all at once. My soul is turning and spinning. A rush of blinding light rushes to me, and then..._

* * *

_A loud, cracking noise fills the air._

My eyes snap open.

For several minutes, I lie on the ground, silently breathing. I can hear birds chirping in the distance. I can smell the leaves on the ground. I'm lying on something hard.

I stay there, taking in the feel of the grass and the stone. The peacefulness of this place is like a dream. Insects buzz around me in the fresh morning air. This is my forest. I'm home. The beautiful morning light is dipping the whole area in an orange aura. Birds are chirping, and several of my familiar friends are scurrying happily around me.

I sit up and smile at them. One squirrel runs up onto my shoulder and nuzzles my cheek. I laugh happily, glad to be back. Glad to be with my friends-

Brendan!

Immediately, I stand up and look around. Where is Brendan? Where is he? I see the stone path, a statue, and... I am standing in front of Craum's place. I shrink back. Not now! Not when I've just returned! My mission! Brendan! The Book!

I brace myself for the worst...

...

But the worst doesn't happen.

I open one eye, then the other, puzzled. Where is that too-familiar blackness? Where is the monster that killed my family? Craum... I can't feel his evil anywhere... Is he dead?

I wait a while longer, looking for any sign, anticipating his dreadful hatred at any moment...

Again, nothing happens. It is true. He is gone. Brendan has killed him, but at what cost?

Cautiously, I ease my way towards the stone structure. I doubt that Brendan survived. He was a child. He was human. He can't have fought an evil so ancient and lived... But... I notice something lying in the back of the stone structure. I gasp.

"Brendan!"

The unmistakable figure of my red-haired friend is there, lying against the rock with something in his hands. I run towards his body, dread rising up in me. If he's dead...

If he's dead...

That's when I see his chest rising and falling steadily. He is breathing. I sigh with relief. Quietly, I remove his brown cloak from me and I fold it up, placing a single white flower on top of it. Right now, I don't want him to see me. Right now, I just need to be alone with my thoughts.

Nonetheless, I must first finish my work here. When Brendan wakes up, I will be gone. I don't know how long it will be before we see each other again, so I can't depart without leaving a sign. I need to leave something. Something to show that I'm alive again. Something to show him that I'm alright.

I tell the forest to sprout a trail of the white flowers, to show that I have been here. Naturally, my forest listens. The plants crop up through the ground gently, like tiny babies waking from a nap. Satisfied with my sign, I depart to the familiar part of my woods, head buzzing and full of questions.

* * *

That was months ago. It is now wintertime in the woods. Gentle snow is falling through the gaps in the canopy, painting everything in a light blanket of white. The long, spindly fingers of the trees stand like giants above me. Inside some of them, squirrels are sleeping peacefully as the occasional chirp from a thrush echoes among the trees. I am twiddling a stick between my fingers as I walk through a familiar grove, admiring the woods' peaceful beauty.

My mind is far from peaceful, though. More and more humans have passed through as of late, seeking shelter in that abbey of Brendan's. In the past I would have loosed my wolves on them for intruding upon my land...

...

But I can't now.

I cannot bring myself to do such a thing. I haven't been able to look at these refugees the same way I otherwise would have. They are usually poor, wounded souls in desperate need of sanctuary. The Norsemen are getting closer. It's just what I'm afraid of, and the looks on some of the children's faces only solidify that fear. Brendan survived a Norseman attack as a child, too.

Brendan.

I'm scared for him. He may have been locked away again. The last time that I saw him was in the Fall. I hope he's okay. I hope he's not been punished too harshly. It was no trivial matter which led him into the forest that night. It was a mission of killing Craum for the sake of The Book itself!

The Book.

My thoughts keep going back to the Book. It-

_Twang!_

_Shuck!_

"Owooooooh!"

My heart skips a beat. That cry. I know what that cry means.

There isn't a moment to spare. I race through the woods and to the source of the noise, heart pounding. The branches and twigs now serve no purpose but to smack my hands as I break them away from me in my frantic haste.

I burst through a clearing and a horrible scene stares me in the face. There, limping slowly to me, is a wolf-friend of mine, with a large, flaming, black arrow stuck right through his back. Embedded deep, the dart's head is jutting from out of the wolf's bleeding chest. He is panting heavily, struggling to walk, let alone breathe.

"Easy. Take it easy. Here..."

I walk over and kneel next to him. As I kneel beside him, I gently stroke his mane and try to calm him down. He whimpers in pain, wanting me to take it away. His eyes look up at me, begging me to heal him. A thousand days of talking would only convey _half _the words that are spoken to me in this one look:

"_Get it out, Mommy. Get it out. Please, Mommy."_

I can't. The wound is far too deep, and his fate has been sealed.

I choke back a sob and bury my head into the wolf's black fur, my arms embracing him softly. After a moment more of pain, I feel his life leave. He whimpers in agony for a second, and then dies, going limp. Slowly, I lower the body. I lay it gently on the ground, taking care to keep him from being damaged any further.

There is silence. The wind blows quietly around me as I stare at my dead companion. Years spent together. Years in company. Years of friendship.

Taken away in a second.

Who did this?!

Whoever shot that arrow...

I search all of my recent memories, trying to place exactly where I've seen this type of abomination before. Wait... It was... It was sticking out of one of the wounded humans. Three days ago. It has a burnt tip. Flames were on it recently... The raiders are here.

...

They will wish that they _weren't_.

I take the arrow out and snap it in half.

They dare invade my forest! They dare attack my friends! They dare threaten my _kingdom!_ They will regret ever entering my woods! I _will _make them _pay!_

Howling with rage, I transform into a wolf, forsaking all restraint and allowing my anger to fuel my being. Death. Death shall come, and it shall be swift! I summon my pack to me. They soon arrive and, upon seeing their fallen comrade, begin snarling. Saliva and spittle foam from their mouths in pure, unfiltered rage. They are ready to attack.

_Revenge_.

With a growl and a howl, I lead the pack off, thirsty for the blood of the Norsemen.

It isn't long before we come across them.

We are almost to the abbey, when I hear a cry of pain come from a few yards away. I'd recognize that. Pangur. I know it is- It has to be. I look through the trees and see Brendan, lying on the ground and facing three of the Norsemen, hulking and giant. Next to him is a frail old man, petrified with fear. One of the monsters is looking through a golden box.

I watch as he tears it up, scattering strange-shaped leaves everywhere.

Then two giant, thick-edged swords are raised to kill.

Without hesitation, I command my troops to attack. They do so. Darting into the fray from all sides, they bite and tear and rip the flesh of the hulking, evil men before anyone can blink. My soldiers show absolutely no mercy. No mercy at all. The bloodbath only lasts moments, and soon the attackers are dead.

No more will they harm anyone.

My wolf pack collectively, instinctively, turns and faces Brendan and the elderly one. Growling and baring their teeth, the wolves are clearly not done.

No. Not Brendan.

I howl, calling my troops back. The pack disperses into the woodlands around the abbey.

This leaves me alone with Brendan, Pangur, and the old man. Wearily, they stoop down and begin collecting the leaves which were ripped from what I assume is a "book". Wait...

Book.

Is it... is it The Book? It is. It's the Holy Book. _It has to be. _The one Brendan was always talking about. I've never paid much attention to it until now, but...

_I must guard His Word._

And now I am curious. What exactly is _His Word? _What is it I must guard? Like a pang of hunger inside of my stomach, my heart desires. I need to know if... if I can...

Well, I need to know.

Perhaps He knows I want to know, for at this moment a soft breeze brushes in. One of the book-leafs is picked up by the wind and blown through the trees. It lands near me.

It's so close. I could die... I know this, too. Mother and father always told me to stay away... to stay away from churches and crosses and the like. Mother and father wouldn't lie to me, would they? They wouldn't...

But...

But did they?

What if... What if part of it's not a lie? Or what if it all is? Or what if it all isn't? That is, what if none of it's a lie?

But I survived an encounter with Him, so...

My... my encounter with Him has changed everything.

Everything I ever knew...

...

Brendan comes to retrieve the book-leaf, but then he sees me. But he doesn't know it's me. To him, I am a menacing, frightening wolf.

I hesitate before doing it, but I want to know. I... I want to find out how the book feels. I must find out if it will hurt me. Then I should know if my parents were wrong, right?

I brace myself for death, terrified of what I'm about to do...

Gently, I push the book-leaf to Brendan.

"Aisling?"

I walk until I'm out of Brendan's eyesight. Something has happened that I did not expect.

Hiding behind a tree, I change to my normal form again. I didn't feel hot. It didn't hurt me, like I thought it would. It... it didn't even sting. Could it be? But... But it's a common rule spread through my people that... to even _touch anything _of Him is to court death.

Yet here I am, perfectly fine.

I put my hand up to my nose. It feels... warm. Not 'fire' warm. A different kind of warm. Warmth I haven't felt since... since...

I widen my eyes and glance back in the direction where Brendan was. He and Pangur and the man they're with.

_I must protect That Book._

* * *

"That's enough for today, Brendan! We'll stay in this cave for the night!" Aidan yells to me as we come to a stop. The roar of the blizzard overpowers all other noises, and the stinging bite of the cold, snow-filled wind does all but force me to collapse from exhaustion. I look up at the cave that Brother Aidan is pointing to and slowly begin fighting my way to it through the snow. It's not as if I care much, though. I'm too numb to care. I suppose that some of it has to do with the cold, but that's not all. More so than the cold, I feel numb from sorrow. I saw the attack on Kells, the Norsemen...

Uncle.

Fighting back exhaustion, I walk sullenly over to the cave Aidan's leading us to. Pangur trots her way right in, sitting down and curling up into a ball. Aidan's grim face is lit up with light as he strikes some flint and sparks a campfire.

Outside, the snow violently whips all around. A full-fledged storm is rampaging on out there. Faintly, I swear I can hear wolves howling. I pull my cloak up tightly and look back inside, not wanting to think of the wolves. Not wanting to think of the Norsemen. Not wanting to think of Kells.

It's all quiet in here.

Brother Aidan and I are lost in our thoughts. Wordlessly, I stare at the flames of our little campfire. Crackle. Pop. The noise goes on and on, reminding me all too much of the fire from the raid. Neither of us can think of what to say. It's all too much.

Uncle.

I bury my head into my arms and begin silently mourning. Uncle is dead. Of this I'm sure. He is dead. Kells is no more. It's been ransacked and destroyed, just like Iona. Just like many others. Gone.

Aisling.

The thought of her brings on its own wave of sadness. Will I ever see her again? No. I think not. I don't think that was even her that I saw earlier. That was just a white wolf. Aisling has been dead for a long time.

_'Turn the darkness into...light!'_

The last words my friend ever said to me. Now I won't hear her ever again. I'll never see her. I'll never show her more drawings. She'll never show me more of the woods.

Gone.

Just like Kells.

Just like Uncle.

I don't know how long I stay here, freezing in my misery. Feeling hopeless. I couldn't save Kells. I couldn't save Uncle or Aisling. I couldn't even save the book. It's all a hopeless mess, and it's my entire fault. If... If I had been helping on the wall, then it would have held. We would have been strong enough had I listened to Uncle.

But no. I had to stay inside and work on that _stupid book!_

"Awwoooooooo!"

The wolf howls again. Why won't that thing stop? Why won't it leave me alone?! I pick up a rock and run to the edge of the cave. Furiously, I throw it out into the blizzard.

_"You wanna hurt me? Come on! Do it!"_

I can feel Brother Aidan's warm hands wrap themselves around me in a kind but firm embrace as he pulls me back in slowly. Tears are streaming down my face. Tears of anger. Tears of sadness. I continue speaking to the wolf which is somewhere out there.

"Come on! Come finish me. C-C-Co-me... c-co-me f-f-finish..."

I break down crying. Turning around, I bury my head into Brother Aidan's chest and let loose my tears. Through muffled sobs, I manage to calm myself down. Aidan walks me back to the campfire and we sit down again.

He tries talking to me, but doesn't. He can't think of anything to say to me. It's okay, though. I don't need him to. I just... I want to be left alone. I just want to be left alone.

I don't know how many weary hours pass before I turn my eyes away from the cackling flames, but eventually I notice my sight drifting towards the mouth of the cave. It's night-time. The little light from our fire is killed right outside of the cave's entrance. Suffocated into nothing by the wretched blizzard. It's only that little fire which keeps me warm right now. I look at Brother Aidan. He's almost asleep.

I wish for that.

I wish I could sleep and escape this nightmare for a little bit. But I can't. And I can't do anything to occupy my mind, either. I have nothing to do. Nothing to keep me from thinking about the friends and family I've lost.

...

"Brother Aidan."

His eyes open with a start. He sits up, gasping.

"What? What's going on? Is it an attack?"

"No."

He stares at me for a moment, and then sighs with relief. "Oh, praise God for that. There still is something to be thankful for after all... So, what is it then, Brendan?"

"I..." My voice trails off. I'm not sure what to say.

"Can't sleep, lad?"

I look up at Brother Aiden, nodding silently. A moment passes as the flames continue to crackle.

"I don't blame you, little Brother," He says, his face grim with understanding. "I couldn't sleep my first few nights after Iona..." A weary smile spreads across his face. "But there was _one _thing that helped... Here, lad."

He pulls out the loose pages from the Book of Iona. The ones that those monsters had torn. He hands them to me gently. I look down at them, admiring them once more. Even when un-bound, the pages are mystical in ways that I cannot describe.

I take it back. It's not a stupid book. It's... It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Kells would have fallen, with or without the book there.

"I'm getting tired, Brendan," says Brother Aiden. I hesitantly glance up at him, not wanting to take my eyes away from the pages. "I'm getting tired and old. You know this. Do you... Do you know your scriptures well, lad?"

"Well... um... yes... a little," I say. I do know their order: St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke, and St. John. But this book is in _Latin_. I'm... somewhat rusty... in that area. I do have a few rules down, but...

"Lad, if you'd put those pages in their right order, it would be a huge help. But... Promise me one thing, Brendan."

I look up at Brother Aidan, anticipating his request.

"Wake me. Wake me the instant that the storm clears. You understand, little Brother?"

I nod. "Thank you, sir." I'm glad. Glad to finally have something to take my mind off of what happened today. He smiles at me, his old eyes gleaming in the firelight.

"Of course. Very well, then. G'night, lad."

"Goodnight, Brother Aidan."

The older Brother is asleep almost instantly as he curls up beneath his cloak. Now it's just me and the manuscript. I begin staring at one of the pieces, taking in its splendorous detail. I run my hands across it. Brother Aidan's work is truly amazing.

...

He's wrong, though. This may not be the work of angels, but it's not of mere mortals, either. This is _higher _than angels...

The detail. The color. The words themselves...

Silently, I stare at the pages and become lost in them, forsaking all else in this cold world.

* * *

In my wolf form, I peer into the cave. The older man is sleeping, so is Pangur. Brendan is wide awake. This is the ideal time, but I don't want to. I'm nervous. Shy even. So many questions still buzzing through my head, most of them dealing with the book. I am about to forsake entering the cave at all, but the stinging wind and piercing cold finally convince me to think otherwise.

That... and how else am I going to find out about That Book?

Taking a deep breath, I enter the cave quietly and transform back into my normal form. I don't think that Brendan can see me. He's too absorbed in what he is looking at.

I take a step towards him, trying to hold back my desire to turn and run. The last time he saw me, apart from my wolf-form... I was...

_'Turn the darkness into...light!'_

It must have been terrifying.

...

Oh, I want to leave. I want to turn and not face Brendan ever again, but...

_The Book_.

I muster up my strength and let out a small sigh as I prepare to step towards him. There's no need to do anything else, though. My sigh is enough for him to glance up at me.

Our eyes lock.

For a tense moment, nothing happens. The wind blows the snow around outside. The fire crackles quietly. Our eyes remain dead set on each other. Slowly, I notice tears forming in Brendan's. Lower lip trembling, he speaks at last.

"A-Aisling?"

"Yes?"

He stands up, carefully setting the book-pieces on the ground, and then stares at me some more. For a second, he appears to be a statue to me, frozen in place.

This, of course, ends as soon as he cannons straight towards me. For a moment, I fear I may be knocked over as he slams into my body, hugging me tightly. I can feel a blush deepening into my cheeks, and I quickly hug him back, holding him in place. I don't want him to see me until this telling redness leaves my face.

"I thought you were dead," his voice cracks at me through near-tears. Finally, he releases me from his death grip.

"I... Well, I... I was," I say. It's the best way I can describe it. My friend throws me a curious look. "But I got better!" Stupid. That's so _stupid _of me! _Got better? _Is death a _cold _that you can just sweat through?

My awkwardness doesn't seem to bother him. Much more is on his mind, apparently. Mouth agape, dawning realization fades onto his face. "So that was you. The white wolf."

"Yes."

"I'm-I'm sorry. For throwing the stone."

"No, no. It's fine, Brendan. You..."

My voice trails off as something catches my eye.

The Book. The leaves of The Book.

There they are, stacked neatly in a pile, fearfully designed and wonderfully crafted. Faintly, my nose warms itself as it seems to remember touching one of them. I stare at them intently. I would be dead right now. I should be dead right now. I touched... I touched _His Word... _and I lived...

So beautiful...

Brendan seems to notice what I'm looking at.

"D'you want me to put the pages away, Aisling? If it bothers you, I will. I-I know you're a fairy, and they probably hurt you or something like that, right?"

Pages. That's what book-leaves are called. I barely hear Brendan, only getting enough of what he said to barely respond. I shake my head slowly, still hypnotized by the Pages. The one on the top of the pile. It's the one that I passed to him earlier. Faintly, I speak. "Don't put them away. I know I said that I didn't care about The Book, but... I want... I need to see it." I look up at him. "Please, Brendan. Just one Page... _Just one..."_

"Of... course. Here."

In some haze of confusion, he holds out the top Page to me. There it is, inches from my hand. Inches from what could be death. Slowly, cautiously, I extend my fingertips across what might as well be a deep chasm between the Page and me. Just before I cross the chasm, however, I stop.

What if I was mistaken earlier? What if I didn't burn only because I was in a wolf shape? What if I die right here from touching it?

I focus in on the Page. It is all that exists right now. The thin lines and intricate pictures take up my entire attention.

Life or death.

_Life _or death.

_Life..._

Faintly, I hear Brendan.

"It's okay, Aisling. I'm right here," his voice echoes from thousands of miles away.

My hand inches forward, still terrified. I'm a pagan creature. I shouldn't... I can't... I'll die. _I'm just not holy. _Nervously, I begin to retract my hand, fearing a painful demise.

"Aisling, do you trust me?"

Did Brendan just say that? It sounds like it came from in me this time. The Voice...

Brendan is now holding out his extended palm to me. A bit more comfortable with touching that, I allow him to guide me. As he begins to move my arm to the Page, I close my eyes tightly.

It will hurt.

I will die.

Here it comes...

...

The Book touches me.

I wait for the stinging and the pain of death, but it never comes... I look at it curiously. It's not... I'm not burning...

With my other hand I reach and grab the Page so quickly that I think I startle Brendan. I can do it. I can _actually _touch it. That warm feeling returns as I stare at the glorious leaf. The detail... The drawings... they're so beautiful...

I hear a laugh. I turn and look at Brendan. Why is he laughing at me?

"What's so funny?"

"That's what I suppose I looked like. When we were up on the tree."

"Oh, nonsense," I say "I'd never look so ridiculous."

"Suit yourself," he says with a chuckle. "Oh! This wind! I suppose I'd better make sure the other Pages don't go blowing away."

I return to looking at the Masterpiece in my hand as Brendan sits down and attends to the other Pages. Gently, I rub my palm over the one in my hand. The warmth is growing, but it isn't painful. I can't really explain what this particular warmth feels like. It is familiar, though... I've only felt this way...

...

I feel a sob coming on.

I've...

I've only felt like this around my parents.

I close my eyes, allowing some tears to roll down my cheeks. They fall to the ground. Sniffing quickly, I rub them away. I can't let Brendan see me like this.

I look back at the Page. Suddenly, something catches my attention.

"Brendan..."

"Hm?" He looks up at me, curious. Probably not as curious as I am.

"What are these?" I ask, pointing to the black drawings all over the Page. They are drawings of tiny bugs, it looks like. Or strangely shaped leaves. They are all over the sheet, covering it more than the other drawings.

"Those are words."

_His Words._

Sacred words. That's what they are. As I stare deeply at them, looking for awe and wonder. Yet... I remain puzzled. Words? But how? The absurdity of it all is just now hitting me. "How? How can you draw a picture of something invisible?"

"Well, you take... It's like... Okay, It's hard to explain, really..." Brendan shrugs, unable to articulate what it is he wants to tell me. "Would... Would you like me to show you what they mean?"

"Yes."

I hand the Page to him. Unexpectedly, he takes my wrist. "Well c'mon. Sit down, Aisling. I remember this. It's how my Uncle taught me to read. Or, well, how he used to read _to _me. I was too young to learn to read at that point in time, but..."

I situate myself in front of Brendan. It reminds me of when I sat in front of my parents long ago, listening to them tell me stories. As the cackle of the fire drones on, Brendan begins to speak The Words to me.

"Okay... The Gospel, according to Saint Matthew..."

Then I finally get to hear the Words.

And I am lost in the forest from That Book.

All around, the glorious pictures and powerful images circle through my head. It's a swirling autumn of rich thoughts and a winter of cold warmth. Visions, both sad and happy, spring to life in a beautiful yet tragic way. The warmth is what I notice the most. It is covering me and surrounding me as I listen to the words in awe. To court death? Nonsense. To hear these words is to feel...

To feel...

What is it I'm feeling?

And who is the man in the story? Why do I feel like I know him?

At long last, I venture to get a closer look. I slide quietly beside Brendan, looking at the Words as he speaks them. He notices and points his hand to the Pages as he speaks, allowing me to follow his movements. He pauses once or twice, to think. But other than that, the pictures and Words captivate my imagination almost constantly with wonder.

"...Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted."

I wait for him to go on, but he doesn't.

"Why'd you stop?"

"That's it," he replies "That's as far as we've gotten. There's more to it, though. More to illuminate, I mean."

He hands me the Pages. I sit silently, listening to the noises around us as the night drags on. The warm feeling stays there, dangling in the air around me. I know it's not from the fire, either. It's... It's from inside of me. I have not felt like this for a long time. And I don't want the feeling to go away. I want to grab it and hold it close to me, forever.

I have to hear them. I have to hear The Words again.

Hesitantly, I speak. "Brendan, could you tell me again? Or... What I mean is..."

"Do you want me to read it to you again, Aisling?"

"Read?"

"That's what it's called. When you speak words from a book. It's called reading."

"Oh. Yes. I want you to read again. Please."

The warm feeling inside of me has now covered my entire body, and it's not done. It's just started. I can feel it. It's like a soft blanket on a cold winter's night. I hand the Pages back to Brendan. Wanting to get as close of a view as possible, I sit down in his lap so that he is holding the Pages out in front of me.

"Is this going to bug you?" I ask him.

He smiles. "No. I'm alright. Now, follow along closely..."

And with that, he begins to read over my shoulder. Like a cat looking at a dangling string, I follow his finger. For some time, I drift further and further into the Words, which surround me and mesmerize me more and more.

I am spellbound by The Book.

As Brendan finishes again, I find that while my mind and soul have drifted far away, my body has drifted its own direction as well. I have curled up and am now leaning completely into Brendan's chest. That warm feeling hasn't left. It has only grown. By now, I am covered with it. Every ounce of my being is in and full of this Book's warmth.

And I feel so...

So...

"_Yeeeaaaauuuhhh..."_

"That was a big yawn, Aisling. You getting tired?"

...

Yes.

I don't say anything. Even though I'm tired, I am still overwhelmed by The Book. It's mystical. It's wonderful. It has both sadness and happiness, gloom and joy. In a vivid way, it is like my forest. This is Brendan's forest. This is his special wonder that he's showing to me... and I'm glad that he did.

It's so much more than just my forest, though...

...

After several minutes of silence, of being lost in my thoughts, I ask Brendan one more thing.

"Brendan, how's the rest of the story go?"

Rather than a story, I am greeted with silence. The only thing I can feel from him is the soft breathing of his chest. I look up at my friend and realize that he has fallen asleep. Not only has he fallen asleep, but he has set the Pages down long ago. Instead, his arms are curled around me.

Quietly, without disturbing him, I take the Pages of The Book.

That Book. With Brendan's sleeping arms around me, I wrap my arms around the stack of Pages and hold them tightly to me, loving the warm feeling which radiates from them.

I yawn once more, and, just before I fall asleep, I think about my mission. It's all clear to me now, just like He said it would be. It's all so perfectly clear:

The Book isn't he

* * *

re to hurt me.

It's here to forgive me for my ways.

It's here to love me when I feel cold.

It's here to light up the darkness inside of me.

And I'm here to keep these Pages safe. They really are a light. They're a beacon of hope for all who are searching for it, and I must maintain and secure that beacon.

So much to think about, though...

Quietly, thoughts drift to my mother and father. I've never felt this warm since when they were still with me. I recall countless nights spent in their soft arms as they'd rock me to sleep...

I've never felt so much...

...

Love?

...

Love.

I've not felt this much of it for a long, long time.

Quietly, I risk whispering a message to Him. I don't suppose I have to speak it, since He knows what I'm going to say anyways, but I feel compelled to say it.

"Thank You."

* * *

In the mouth of the cave rest four creatures: a boy, a man, a fairy, and a cat. All sleeping peacefully. All safely hidden from the world around them. Lying across from the campfire, the boy has his arms wrapped around his fairy friend, who helped remind him of the light in spite of the terror that proceeded. The fairy is also holding something close, in a very similar fashion. She is holding Sacred Pages. Holy pages. Pages which offer Hope. Pages which offer Peace. Pages which offer Love. And love they did give to her. They lit up her darkness. They eased the pain of who she is. They answered her questions and provided her with warmth unlike any other. Able to sleep just one time, she chooses to hold the Pages close to her, just as she is being held by her friend in a tender embrace.

The darkness is falling away. Light is taking its place.

* * *

_"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted." – Matthew 5:4_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I do not own and I am not affiliated with "The Secret of Kells". All rights go to the original owners._

_Did you like it? Then comment/review, please. It would be greatly appreciated. The way I see it, anything in this story that is awesome is all because of God, not me, and anything that's wrong with it is my fault, and should be fixed if it can._


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